


honey, you are nothing to me

by erintoknow



Series: my brain has claimed it's glory over me [8]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Relationship, Breakup, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/F, Flashback, Gender Dysphoria, Names, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Realization, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: What's your problem with Ortega, anyway? Didn't you two used to be together?
Relationships: Lady Argent/Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Series: my brain has claimed it's glory over me [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1455823
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. honey, you are nothing to me

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles from [[Presumably Dead Arm by Sidney Gish]](https://sidneygish.bandcamp.com/track/presumably-dead-arm)

“What’s your problem with Julia, anyway?” Angie stares down at you, head in her lap. You stiffen, intimately aware of the nails brushing against your scalp, fingers enmeshed in your mess of black hair. It’d be so easy for her to take you out like this. Stupid. Letting your guard down. No one is nice to you without expecting payment in return, and now ‘Angie’ has come to collect.

“That shit’s ancient history.” Crow averts his eyes, caught between the need to put space between the two of them and the need to not give away any sign of discomfort. “Look, it’s not gonna change anything, so leave it alone. None of your business, hey?”

Nails against scalp, gentle - for now. “It _is_ my business if it means you’re planning to put my friend in the hospital again.”

“Well, look, as long as she doesn’t get in my way, then there’s no problems, see?” Crow stretches his hands out above him, fingers interlocked together. Black nail polish reflecting the lamplight. Can’t believe Starshine talked you into that. Amazing, the leverage you’ve just casually handed an enemy.

“Mhm. If you say so, Catha.” She frowns, unsatisfied. More than that, you’re not sure. Sticking to this absurd promise to stay out of her head is another dumb move, and yet you’ve stuck with it so far. Why? Guilt? What do you have to be guilty about? You let your hands drop to your chest. You’re Macha, and everyone can either get out of the damn way or get crushed under foot.

You need to change the subject already.

Crow blows a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You’re the only one that calls me that.”

A twist of lips into a smile. Hint of a threat? So hard to read her face with the reflections. “That a problem? You’re the one that insists on calling me that dumb nickname.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a lil’ starshine, Starshine.” You wave a hand, “But if you insist, I’ll stop, hey?”

“…I didn’t say that.” Now it’s Angie’s turn to avoid Crow’s eyes. Shouldn’t be so pleased by that. This is strictly an alliance of connivence, nothing more. Once the Regenerator is done and you’ve both made use of it, it’s straight back to fighting each other. Maybe, _maybe_ you can convince Starshine to ditch the Rangers by then, but that’s not a twist you should count on. She looks back to you and rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“Me? Pleased?” Crow pulls his face back into a frown. “I’m never happy. Who’s besmirchin’ my bad name like that?” He twiddles his thumbs, gotta think of a better way to dissuade her then that. “Ya know… it’s kinda bad form to ask a girl about her ex.”

“Girl?”

“Boy,” Crow hastily corrects himself. “Man, guy, dude, amigo, male-shaped person, fuck whatever. Who cares. Ya know what? I don’t gotta explain jack to you, Starshine. I told you, it’s ancient history. An’ you ain’t my therapist.”

“Oh, so you’re going to therapy?” She doesn’t hide the note of surprise.

“Have you met me?”

She snorts, trying to hold back a smile. “Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, see, there’s the correct response.”

The two you rest there in silence, neither one making a move to restart the movie still paused on the TV. Argent sighs. “Whatever happened, she won’t talk about it either.”

It takes you a second, then; “Thought we weren’t talkin’ ‘bout that any more?” Crow folds his hands together, resting them on his stomach. Stares past Angie’s head up at the ceiling. Hard to believe she really let you into her apartment, willingly. Hard to believe her apartment looks like a containment cell from the outside. “Look, look, what do I care if Jules feels bad – I’m an asshole, remember?”

“An asshole that scrapbooks.”

“Yeah, see? Clearly the workings of a deranged individual.” You twist out of Angie’s lap, sitting back up on the couch. None too relieved to have those hands out of Crow’s hair. That is definitely relief you’re feeling right there. Nothing else.

Angie watches you, her expression unreadable. “You won’t get an argument from me there, Catha. But you’re avoiding the question.”

You make a face, drumming your hands against your knees. “Really not gonna let this one go, huh?”

A cruel smile spreads across Angie’s face. “Nope.”

Crow groans, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Ugh. Fine. But look, if you’re expectin’ some sorta salacious story you’re gonna be disappointed, ya dig?”


	2. i don’t call people anything thats thought to be so sweet

2009

You catch Psychopathor’s fist in your hand. The impact sending fireworks rattling all the way up your arm to the shoulder. You let out a whooping cry, the adrenaline rush going straight your head. The plasma canon in Psychopathor’s dominant hand comes swinging in toward your side but you dance out of the way in time. You have a fraction of a second to set your vison appropriately before Steel’s stun missile hits Psychopathor dead in the chest in a deafening burst of light and sound.

“Fuck yeah, got ‘em!” You pump your fist into the air as dots slowly clear from your vision. You almost don’t catch the furious attention turned your way in time, throwing yourself prone to the ground fractions of a second before a burst of superheated plasma scorches above where you’d just been standing. “Shit he’s still up!”

Ortega holds back, ready to circle around as Steel moves in to finish prying open the old bastard’s armor. Psychopathor reacts quicker than either you or Steel could have expected, using his canon as a bludgeon as he turns, knocking Steel out cold into the ground. Fuck! That stunner hit him dead on, how is he doing that?

It may be Steel, but you can’t exactly let him get killed here. Ah, shit fire. “Hey! Ugly! Over here!” You clap your hands together before quickly unslinging your plasma caster. You’ll give Psychopathor some motivation to focus on you if you have to.

From behind, Ortega lets loose a bolt of lightning. The brilliant blue and white light runs harmlessly down into the ground, jumping between the minor cracks in Psychopathor’s armor. As soon as the old bastard turns to face Ortega, you fire of a pair of shots of your own at his back. The plasma melts against the the metal plates, leaving minimal damage. Damn, what kind of armor is this guy sporting?

You take cover behind some rubble as Psychopathor fires into ruined housing block, sending up a crash of dust, smoke, and loose mortar. At least you’ve gotten him to move away from Steel, focus on the real threat.

Assuming You and Ortega still count as a threat without Steel to bring the big guns to bear. Could really do with Anathema’s acid powers right. Where is he, anyway? Forget it. Forget him. Focus on the threat. How is Psychopathor tracking his shots so well?

Stretch out with your talents, there’s Steel, out cold but still alive, that’s good. Psychopathor’s mind is barbed to the ‘touch’ and you pull back instinctively and the familiar feeling of telepathic sensitive. That can’t explain the whole picture, he’s way too weak, he’d need an augment like – a quintet of tiny, chittering minds brushes yours. You dive out of your cover as a blast of horrific green light reduces the cement pillar to dust. A trio of bursts follows it, chasing you through the ruin until you finally lose it.

The gun! A telepathic targeting matrix! You’d heard rumors the old bastard had picked up something like that but you hadn’t really believed them. Fuck.

“Sidestep!” Ortega slides into cover behind the brick wall with you, relief naked in her voice. “Mierda, glad you’re okay.”

“No thanks to your driving.” You crack a grin under your mask.

“Hey, how was I supposed to know the city’s most wanted criminal was in that truck?”

“Tried to tell you…” You grimace, in the distance the sound of Psychopathor firing wildly into the building on the far side. You can mislead his targeting matrix for only so long before it catches on. “Look, no time. I figured out how he’s tracking us.”

Ortega nods while she reloads her gun. “Yeah?”

“He’s got this set-up with a telepathic targeting…” You frown at the look on Ortega’s face. “Look, the point is, I can confuse him for a while, but not long.”

“So, what’s the plan then?”

You recoil, taken aback. “You’re asking _me_?”

“Hey, I trust you.” She smiles, tips her head with a wink as she slides back the rack on the gun to chamber the bullet.

“Alright hot stuff,” You grumble, “but if we both get blown up I’m hauntin’ your ass.” You shake your head. “Okay whatever, look, You circle around behind. I’ll stick here and focus on distracting him. Do you think you can still take ‘im?”

“I’ll have to get close and find a crack in his armor, but yeah.” Ortega gives you a thumbs up. “Sounds good, let’s do this.”

You wish you could be nearly as confident as Ortega looks right now. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Never.”

Three more blasts echo through the ruin.

“Fuck.” You push her away, “Go on, get going!”

Ortega gives you one last thumbs up before slipping away. You huddle down amongst the rubble, gun clutched to your chest as you put your full focus on tracking the matrix. What are these things? They remind you of rats. Whatever they are, they’re catching on quicker, and quicker. Ortega’s not exactly the quietest bull in the china shop, you can’t let them notice her.

You feel their minds brush yours.

In the distance Psychopathor cries out triumphantly. “Hah! Got you!”

Ah, shit fire.

You dive out of your cover as a trio of plasma shots vaporize everything. Out in the open you fling yourself to the asphalt as another shot goes overhead and roll into cover against a car. Fuck that was close. Com’on Ortega, where are you? Try to catch your breath, check the charge on your gun – wait. The car –

The explosion deafens your ears as you’re thrown bodily against the ground. Before you can recover smoldering metal falls against your leg, the weight of it digging into your skin. In the distance you can hear the old bastard laugh. Fuck. Shit. You scramble for purchase, you need to get on your back if you’re going to have the leverage to get this frame off. Twist as you might, you can’t find the right angle Only the complaint of muscle and bone sandwiched between metal and earth, threatening to pop as you strain to twist yourself around.

Boots crunch the earth behind you, drawing closer.

Oh fuck. Is this it? Are you going to die here? A fucking failure? No! You have to get free. You’re motherfucking Sidestep, and you’re not going down like this. It’s not happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t–

The crackle of electricity intermixed with pained screaming breaks out from behind. Reflected light intermixing with the smoldering flames around you. A heavy ‘Thump!’ of an armored body collapsing to ground and then Ortega yelling out your name.

“Sidestep! Sidestep, ¡Ay Dios mío!” Ortega scrambles behind you. There’s the creaking metal and the weight on your leg abates. You twist your self free and Ortega lets it drop again with a metallic scream.

“Fuck– fuck, Ortega, holy shit–” You wheeze, shallow breaths, light headed and dizzy. Hands find your shoulders, gingerly pulling you to your feet. You stagger into Ortega, your one leg not taking the weight. You swallow a rattling gasp in your chest.

“You’re alive,” Ortega breathes, echoing your own thoughts. “Oh thank god you’re alive.”

You look up at Ortega’s face, find yourself taken aback by the undisguised fear still on her face. “…only a flesh wound.” Your laugh turns into a sharp intake of breath as something in your ribs complains. You meet Ortega’s eyes, heart still pounding in your chest, hands clinging to her shoulders for support. You don’t move as her hands travel up to your face, thumbing the edge of your mask. You don’t flinch as she slowly pulls your mask up, exposing your mouth, nose.

You echo her back as she leans in, eyes closed. The first kiss quick is short, tentative, and she pulls back to give you a questioning look as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’ The second kiss is longer, bodies pressing hard against each other, hands griping the other tight.

Ortega draws back first, awed relief on her face. “I thought I’d lost you there…”

“It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” Can’t stop the smile blooming across your face. The dazy, lighter-then-air feeling that could either be joy or a lack of oxygen. You step back as a thought strikes you. “Shit, we better check on Steel.”

* * *

2009

“Hey handsome,” Ortega brushes up against you, “good work out there today.” You stiffen at her touch, at Ortega pulls back, frowning. “Hey, you okay?”

Shaking your head, you push her away. “I’m just dandy, Jules. Doncha worry ‘bout me.” You take a few steps away from her, try to look normal.

“Hey, Sidestep, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

Hand on your shoulder, you shake it off. “Gimme some space, woman, geez.” You wave at her over your shoulder. “I’m outta here, later.”

“Sidestep?” She reaches for you again, “Hey! Sidestep!” Second grab gets your arm by the elbow. You tug it back but she holds firm.

Let your shoulders sag, making a show of your frustration. “Let go of me.”

“We need to talk.”

“We’re talking now.”

“I mean about us. You’ve been avoiding me since we fought Psychopathor.”

You twist in her grip, turning to face her with your arms crossed. Glaring at her under your mask. “What’s there to talk about, hey? We got caught up in the heat of the moment.” You shrug. “That’s all it was.”

Ortega gives you a tired look. “You and I both know it was more than that.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” You hunch your shoulders, turning away from her. “Sorry to disappoint you Marshal.” Why can’t she see it? You can’t be what she wants you to be. You have to cut this off now before things get any more out of hand.

* * *

2010

Ortega pushes you back against the wall, her knee between your legs as she slides up the bottom half of your mask. “Mierda, I missed you.” She kisses you hard, harder than she did that first time.

“Idiot,” you can’t stop grinning at her, or rather past her, as she nuzzles her chin against your neck. Still can’t bring yourself to believe she’s really talking about you – about missing _you_ of all people. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

That gets you a bite on your neck. “You know what I mean.”

“Hey, I wasn’t about to let you fight the scary knife-arm lady on your own, ya know?”

“You jealous?”

“Well,” you glance up at the ceiling in mock thoughtfulness, “Catastrofiend’s got ya beat in the youthful looks department but I couldn’t deny ya got–” Ortega punches you in the shoulder, “–ow!”

“Asshole.”

You return the smug grin on her face. “Idiot.”

This is a mistake. You’re making a mistake. You can echo back her behavior all you like, but none of it feels right. Like she’s touching someone else, kissing someone else. Some man that isn’t you. It can’t possibly be you she’s seeing. What does she know about you really? Nothing. Every heated breath a heart pang of alienation and want with no way to tell the difference.

You shake the doubt from your head, take the chance to grab Ortega and it’s her turn against the wall. If it’s your hands on her, you don’t need to worry as much about clothes going out of place. Maybe if you can pretend hard enough it will finally feel real.

*

“So…” Ortega’s head rests in your lap as the two of you relax on her bed. She reaches an idle hand up to play with your hair. It’s been getting longer and longer lately. For some reason you just can’t bring yourself to cut it. You really should. “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

You laugh to hide your discomfort, avoid looking at Ortega’s face. “What’s wrong with Sidestep?”

“Oh, come on,” Ortega rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s not like I go by Charge 24/7.”

Doesn’t she know it’s better to leave things well enough alone? Don’t look at the man behind the curtain. You’ll only be disappointed. You keep your smile up, smirking down at her. “Hey, look, you get to see my whole face now. I gotta keep some secrets to keep you interested, right?”

Ortega arcs an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Someone’s _name_ is hardly a secret, Sidestep. What’s the big deal?” She smirks back at you, “What, you on the run from government or something?”

“Ha ha, very funny Jules.” You roll your eyes. “If I was on the run from the government, I’d have to be a colossal idiot to become make-out buddies with the goddamn Marshal of the Rangers.”

* * *

2011

Ortega’s unvarnished surprise is plain on her face as you step into her hospital room. “Sidestep? What are you doing here?” She sits up straighter in her hospital bed. The nest of cables and tubes she’s enmeshed with sends a pang through your core. “I thought you weren’t speaking with me.”

You pull your arms around your, grateful for the mask hiding your face. “Damn Jules, you almost died yesterday. Ya really think I’m that petty?” When Ortega doesn’t respond you approach her bed, place a tentative hand on the arm rest. “…You really scared me.”

“Sidestep…?” A hand covers yours, an IV drop poking out from under medical tape.

“Catha,” You spit out. “Badb Catha.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my name.” You look at the other end of the bed, away from Ortega’s face. Focus in on the wall-mounted TV showing soap opera re-runs. You’ve spent weeks going through possible name options. Trying to find something that really felt like _you_. You’d even resorted to, horror of horrors, the public library, in order to raid baby name books before resorting to an encyclopedia of mythological figures. Badb Catha; a crow that caused chaos to shift the battle to her side, and damn if that didn’t describe your goal in a fight.

Still weren’t really sure about it, but goddamnit, Catastrofiend had almost _killed_ Ortega. You can’t take all the time in the world for this stuff. You might not have it. And so what if Badb Catha was a female figure? What were the odds anyone would even recognize that name?

“Huh.” Ortega looks at you, a thoughtful expression on her face. Or maybe it’s just the pain killers.

“What?” You tighten your grip on the armrest.

“Nothing. It’s just… not the kind of name I expected.”

You stare down at the olive skin of your hands. “I don’t get it, what’s the problem?”

“Woah, there’s no problem! I’m glad, is all” The hand on yours squeezes, “I’m happy to know you, Bev.”

“Badb.”

“Bathe.”

“No, Badb.”

“…Byeth?”

“No, you id–” You stop yourself, gritting your teeth. “You know what, don’t worry about it.” Swallowing doing your frustration you shift your weight, turn your head to look at Ortega with a tired smile. “Just call me ‘Crow’ that works too, I guess.”

“Well, Crow,” such a strange feeling hearing Ortega call you that, a warm smile on her face. “It’s good to meet you.”

You make yourself laugh, smiling back at her. “You bet.”

* * *

2013

“¡Ay, Dios mío!” Ortega throws her hands up in the air, storming away from. “What is your problem, Crow?”

“My problem?” You run a hand through your hair, pulling out the braid. “Look,_ I’m_ not the one that can’t keep her hands to herself in front of the press!”

Ortega turns to look at you, wide-eyed. “They had already turned off the cameras! How long have we been together Crow? Is it a crime to want to hold my boyfriend’s hand!?”

“Boyfriend!?” You step backwards, mind awash in panic. “Since when am I your boyfriend!?”

The hurt look on Ortega’s face would be enough to strike you dead if this were any other day. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? What we’ve been doing?”

“What!? No!” You pace the length of the conference room, If you leave now she’ll just follow you out into the hallway, air everything out where the rest of the Rangers can hear. You aren’t going down that road again. “This is just… friends? With…. minor benefits??” Even as you say it, it sounds weak.

“I swear Crow, sometimes I feel like I don’t understand you at all.” Ortega slams her fist down on the table, “One moment it seems like we really get each other, and the next it’s like you want nothing to do with me at all. I can’t keep doing this.”

You stop your pacing, staring at her. “What the fuck… _you’re_ the one that wanted to quote unquote keep doing this! You don’t know anything about me, Ortega!” You run a finger along the rope cord of your necklace, worrying the string. “What was I supposed to do, hey? Tell the Marshal of the Rangers no? Might as well give up on the superhero career then!”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, and Ortega doesn’t meet your eyes as she talks. “Is that what you really thought? This whole time? That I was abusing my position?”

“I…” Your voice falters. That was too far and you know it. But you can’t bring yourself to take it back either. The past three years have been on-again off-again parade of ‘my man,’ and ‘hey handsome,’ and a body that by any objective account works just fine but where nothing seems right, like someone hot-glued on the wrong pieces after cutting away the right ones, and at the center of it all is Julia Ortega’s smug smiling face and you’re just _sick of all of it_.

“Well, Crow? Is that it then? Are we over?”

The words freeze in your throat before you can say anything. Too many jammed up all at once and you don’t even know where to start.

You don’t have to. You’re already turning to face the door as Steel steps in. He nods at you, his one concession to curtesy before focusing on Ortega. “We just got a call from the mayor.”

A drawn out rattling sigh before Ortega turns to face Steel, her face a careful blank. “What’s the problem?”

Steel frowns, glancing at you. “It’s the situation at the apartments around Echo park. Things have deteriorated further. They’re asking the Rangers for back up. Take out whatever’s causing people to kill themselves.”

Ortega takes a moment to respond before straightening up, folding her hands behind her back. “Better suit up then. Who do we have on hand right now?”

“I’m going.” You harden your voice, making it clear you’ll brook no argument.

* * *

2020

You press your armored foot into Ortega’s chest, as she lies prone on the asphalt, blood running freely down her head, her dress ruined and dirtied beyond repair. “You know Ortega, this is a good look for you.” Your voice echoes out over the hushed crowd onlookers. Not one of them even thinks of trying to help their supposed ‘hero.’ Of course not. In the end, everyone’s only in it for themselves.

Ortega cracks a grin, one eye swollen shut. “It’s the dress, right? You know, I won best dressed of–”

“Yes, yes, ten years ago, I get it.” You press your foot a little harder, until Ortega groans in protest. “You should retire, if your best achievements are a decade in the past.”

The smile fades from Ortega’s face as she stares up at you, like she’s trying to figure something out. “Do I… know you?”

“You don’t know anything about me, Ortega!” You put on the pressure again. “But you! Oh, I know all about _you!_ I am going to _enjoy_ bringing down everything you’ve ever worked for. Wasting your life in slavery to masters that don’t care whether you live or die… only that you keep the poor and the downtrodden from darkening their doors. It’s disgusting honestly, that you have the temerity to call yourself a hero.”

“And you…” Ortega coughs, a pained gasping of breath. “You think you’re any better?”

“Hardly.” You roll your eyes behind your helmet. “But unlike you, I’m done pretending. I’ll take what’s mine, and none of you little tin soldiers are going to get in my way.” It’s been seven years. Ortega can try all she likes to ‘fix’ things, but some things you can never make good. You’re no one’s ‘man.’ Macha is her own thing, a new identity, and Morrígan is all the ‘living’ you ever need. There’s no need for Badb Catha anymore.

You pick up her intention before she announces herself, claws swiping through where you were standing before you had dodged. You give Ortega a good kick to hell her body out of the way and ensure she stays down before focusing on the new challenger. “Lady Argent. So kind of you to finally show up.”


	3. the speech is coming back with a vengeance it seems

“That’s it?” Angie looks at you, unimpressed. “You’re mad at Jules ‘cause she called you handsome?”

“What!? It’s more complicated than that!” Crow sputters.

“You should just tell her to stop.” Angie shrugs, leaning over to pick up a cupcake from the coffee table. “She’d understand.”

You want to be furious but all you can muster to feel is defeated. “You listened to the whole story and that’s your take-away?”

“Weren’t two of the old Rangers transgender or something?” By the way she watches Crow over the top of her cupcake you’re convinced now, she’s getting a kick out of this. “I mean, I wouldn’t know from experience, but it seems pretty cut and dried to me.”

“Wait, what?” Crow scoots away from Angie as his brain catches up. “Hey, look, I am _not_… that, okay?”

“Macha uses she/her pronouns.”

“That’s– that’s different! That’s just… part of the act! To throw people off the trail!”

The skepticism on Angie’s face couldn’t be more frank. “Right. That one worked out well.”

“Hey! Hey!” Crow stands up, jabbing a finger in Angie’s direction. “I told you, hey? And under duress, I might add! That doesn’t count!”

Angie taps her fingers along the base of her cupcake, not paying attention to you. “So we’ve got Macha, Badb Catha… both part of triune of Irish goddesses…” She glances in Crow’s direction. “You hiding a third identity in your back pocket, that I should know about?”

Your heart freezes and it takes you a little too long to respond. “Absolutely not!”

“What’s the problem? Just tell Jules and maybe you can finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“Tell her what!? There’s nothin’ to tell!” That’s enough. You need to get out of here. Before you make a mistake. Do something else you can’t take back. “What do you care anyway? As soon as I finish that damn machine we’re straight back to beatin’ the shit out of each other.”

Angie sighs, mouth pursed in a tight frown as she watches you make for the door. “If that’s what you think, then you really are an idiot, Catha.”

You fling your arms wide, anxious laughter escaping before you can bottle it up. “Glad you’re finally payin’ attention, Starshine!” You grab the door, try to open it. “Um. Mind unlockin’ door?”

With a roll of her eyes, Angie waves a hand at the door. You hear the lock click open. You make your escape before she can say anything else.


End file.
